


Practice

by Leidolette



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Sex Doll, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 02:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leidolette/pseuds/Leidolette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Pauling discovers that Scout has a very vivid imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by these works by [Sicorey](http://sicorey.tumblr.com/): [x](http://sicorey.tumblr.com/post/86638734378/oops-i-didit-again), [x](http://sicorey.tumblr.com/post/67097485220/wot)

It was 10 o'clock at night and, to nobody's surprise, Miss Pauling was still at work. She sat alone in the observation room eating a pear and watching the surveillance monitors. Was the intelligence still there? Check. Was the battlefield still clear? Check. Were they free of any actively raging fires threatening the base? Check. 

Well, that took care of her major worries for this evening. She sat at the desk chair and continued to roll through smaller, less-essential night check ups. It was relatively mindless work, which was why she saved it for the end of the day as sort of a cool-down task before she left the base. She was mostly finished when a flicker of motion on one of the monitors caught her eye. 

She didn't notice it usually. Scout's crush on her, that is. Most of the time it wasn't important. Some of the time it was annoying. Very occasionally, it was a useful tool. 

But it was hard not to notice when Scout was pulling a sex doll out of his closet dressed in an old outfit that she'd thrown out when the hem was singed and a pair of glasses that could have been a carbon copy of the pair that sat on her face at that very moment. 

You'd think that the mercenaries would remember that there were cameras in all of their rooms. The Administrator wasn't big on trust. Or maybe they did remember and just didn't care. There was no place on base that wasn't watched by one camera or another, so maybe they just thought 'fuck it'.

Look, these were not well-adjusted men. 

(Though she wasn't sure if she was still a well-adjusted woman, so maybe she shouldn't throw stones.)

And, yes, she tried not to watch, but she'd seen some stuff regardless of how quickly she turned her gaze away. 

She tried to be a professional about it though. Guess which merc was into auto-erotic asphyxiation? Guess which one called a phone sex hotline at least once a day? Unless the Administrator specifically asked, Miss Pauling would never tell. 

But back to the doll. It's not like she didn't already know that Scout had gotten one. Scout was no Spy, so when it became clear as day to everyone at base that he was acting very suspicious about the plain, brown package that he had brought back from Teufort last week, the Administrator had ordered her to get to the bottom of it. 

A couple box cutter slices later while Scout was out on the battlefield solved the mystery. There was a moment of shock when she opened the cardboard flaps and saw a distorted face staring back at her, then disbelief as she pulled it out of the box and realized what it was. Oh my god, Scout had ordered a blow-up sex doll. She let out a peal of involuntary laughter, which she quickly stifled for worry of getting caught sneaking around Scout's messy room. She really shouldn't have bothered, all the mercs were busy disemboweling each other under the hot sun. Still, she felt strangely exposed. 

It was was an easy job to tape the box back up and replace the postage seals, and she finished it quickly. When she was done it was as if the package had never been opened at all. 

But this wasn't the same doll that she had seen earlier. Or at least, not completely the same -- Scout had made some modifications. In addition to the dress and glasses, it had a wig in the style of her hair and the same shade of lipstick she wore. 

Holy fucking shit, was all she could think as her mind turned into something like a thirty car pile-up. 

Normally she would look away when it became clear what direction the mercs were headed, but in this case she found it hard to look away. She tried to rationalize it to her conscience (which popped up at the weirdest times) that the doll made it her business. It sounded weak even to her. 

On the monitor, Scout laid the doll out on the bed and smoothed out the skirt of the dress. He climbed on next to it, still fully clothed, minus shoes. 

He was saying something. His lips were moving but the audio feed for this camera was cut. She would have to put in a work order, she thought absently as she leaned forward in her chair. Scout was still holding his strange, one-sided conversation as he scooted closer to the doll. He leaned over, the bed dipping, and pushed a strand of the doll's hair away from its face. It was such a romantic gesture, like you might see in a movie, that Miss Pauling nearly laughed. 

But she didn't. Instead, the muscles in her abdomen tightened and she became very aware of a piece of her own hair that hung free against her face. She pushed it behind her ear herself and the skin tingled where she brushed it. 

On the screen, Scout was now dipping his head towards the doll's face. He wasn't going to kiss it, was he? Its mouth was permanently open in a round 'O' awaiting a cock. It was ridiculous-looking, and did not lend itself especially well to being kissed. But Scout didn't seem to care, he pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to its plastic lips as his arms wrapped it in an embrace. 

She felt an overwhelming wave of self consciousness. This was absurd. This whole thing was the most pathetic thing that she could imagine for both of them; him for doing this and her for watching. She couldn't do this.

Abruptly, Miss Pauling stood up and went to the door. She stood there with her hand on the doorknob, thinking. She should leave, walk out and continue on with her day and file this experience in the part of her mind where she kept the rest of her embarrassing workplace memories. 

But instead, she closed the door to the room and locked it. 

Now it felt like she was complicit in this somehow, beyond just being a Peeping Tom. Like she was taking some responsibility for anything she was about to see. 

When she sat back down in front of the glow of the monitors, Scout's kisses had slowed and he pulled back. Her eyes followed the motion and she had just enough time to wonder if that was as far as things were going to go, when he pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion and then started on his pants. 

Turns out Scout was a tighty-whiteys kind of guy. But not for long, because his thumbs were already hooked over the waistband and then there was nothing but Scout himself in only his dog tags and socks. He rolled his shoulders and even through the low-resolution feed Miss Pauling could appreciate the whipcord muscle of his arms. She'd seen him without his shirt before, but this was the first time she got to follow his abs down to the creases at his hips down to his hard, waiting erection. 

Jesus. Nobody should be able to look so comical and hot at the same time.

If she'd thought about it before ( _and she had,_ thought a tiny part of her that she tried to squash), she would have assumed that he'd be a parody of himself in bed: Brash and obnoxiously overconfident in order to cover a lack of skill and experience. He would be the kind of guy whose technique began and ended with 'jackhammer', and it would be over quickly. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Then, for good measure, he would probably run his mouth to all the other guys on base about how easy she was. 

But that's not how it was at all. 

God, he was _gentle_ with it. Opening the dress' buttons one by one, sprinkling little kisses to the doll's lips and chest as he continued. He held it around the back of its neck with one hand, his thumb resting on its cheek rubbing back and forth. His other hand finished the buttons and slipped the dress off -- he pressed it to his face and took a deep breath through his nose before he let it fall to the floor. He climbed back onto the doll with his arms braced on either side of it. 

His back arched as he moved and it Miss Pauling's breath was shaky as she watched his lean muscles ripple over his ribs. Scout's own breath didn't seem so steady either, and his expression was _so_ open. 

Everything about this situation is incredibly fucked up, Miss Pauling thought. But she didn't find herself as disturbed as one might think. She worked with Medic, after all. 

She drifted for awhile, just watching. 

She swallowed heavily after realizing she hadn't done that for a number of minutes. Scout was still going strong on the screen, though there was sweat beading at his temples and a ruddiness was creeping across his back. 

He buried his head into the doll's neck. His lips were moving as if he were reciting or praying, but it she couldn't make out what he was saying. His eyes were squeezed shut. 

What was he imagining? Her? The doll? Some other ridiculous, elaborate fantasy? She was seeing him in one of his most intimate moments and she still couldn't image what he was thinking. 

She supposed it was for the best. He should be able to have _some_ secrets. 

And one of those secrets definitely wasn't going to be what his face looked like when he came, as she was learning right now. 

He shifted on the bed, and from this new angle she could see his face better. His lips were parted slightly as he panted and his hair was mussed. He began to jolt the bed as his thrusts got harder and harder. The background buzz of the various machines in the observation room were drowned out by the sound of Miss Pauling's heartbeat in her ears. She leaned forward in her seat. 

The stiffening in his back and thighs was unmistakable. He stuttered through maybe half-a-dozen more pumps as his orgasm coursed through him. He shook with his eyes still screwed shut, but his mouth was moving. For once, Miss Pauling wished so badly that she could hear his voice. He talked until his hips slowed to a stop. 

He rolled off and onto his back next to the doll, his chest still heaving like a bellows. She stared at him while he stared at the ceiling. Then he leaned back over and gave the doll a kiss on the cheek and spooned up against it while tossing the covers over both of them. 

All the times she'd seen Scout (not counting the instances when he'd been nothing but a pile of ruined flesh on the battlefield) he'd had some type tension in him, a snapping sort of energy that was always present to some degree. Looking at him there, boneless and dreamy, was like looking at a different person. His dopey smile was mesmerizing. 

And then he was out, breathing deeply and steadily in sleep with an arm flung over the doll. Miss Pauling sat there stewing in a mix of arousal and shock as she stared at the screen where Scout was peacefully oblivious to the outside world. 

She sat back in the chair which leaned back with a squeak. She let out a rush of air and pressed the backs of her hands to her flushed cheeks to cool them. She concentrated on calming down. 

Miss Pauling was going to need every ounce of her professional facade if she was going to be able to look Scout in the eye tomorrow.


End file.
